Ficlets

Warren didn’t like doctors. They made him feel uncomfortable and nervous. Still, this was a necessary check-up, and the sooner he got it done with, the sooner he’d know if he was alright.

“Hello,” he said to the Receptionist. “My name’s Warren Taylor, I have an appointment.”

“Ah yes, your details are right here,” she said, eyes locked on the paperwork. “What’s the nature of your problem?”

“You, uh… you have my paperwork right there,” he said.

“That’s right,” she smiled.

“So you should already know.”

“We don’t keep such personal information here at reception for reasons of confidentiality.”

“So why are you asking?” Warren asked.

“It’s for the doctor’s benefit,” said the receptionist, feigning a smile.

“But he’s going to find out shortly. I can’t see any legitimate reason for you to know why I’m here. Seems to me you’re just being nosy.”

“Mr Taylor,” she said, “I am a trained professional.”

“Yes. A trained professional Receptionist. Last I heard, that training doesn’t happen in Medical School.”